


You Gotta Have Faith

by HaloNoir



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-14 00:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2171472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaloNoir/pseuds/HaloNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beth and Daryl are in a tight spot. And what else to talk about in tight spot, than faith? Beth thinks they're meant to be, Daryl's a realist who thinks that in the Old World, they would never have met.<br/>A mix of regular and glimpses of an AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Gotta Have Faith

 

They were in a tight spot. That much couldn’t be denied. But then, the way Beth looked at it, this was certainly not the tightest one they’d been in. Yet. But Daryl wasn’t biting. Just looking stony-faced down at the swarm of walkers beneath them on the ground level of the barn. Beth had been trying to reassure Daryl that all wasn’t lost, over the grim growling of the walkers.

“Rick or Maggie or someone will be by soon. It’s not like they’re gonna forget us, Daryl.” She shuffled some of the old hay around to make some bedding up, coughing at the dust. She’d lost her tolerance for hayseed in the years since the farm fell.

“Ya don’t know that.” Daryl scowled at her as she patted the space beside him and stayed standing. Beth sighed. He could be so darn stubborn.

“I do know that, in fact. Besides, it ain’t like we’re gonna starve while we wait.” Beth patted the packed satchel beside her.

“And how do ya know that?”

“You gotta have faith. Geez, Daryl, don’t you feel like we’ve had this conversation before?” She watched, tongue in cheek as Daryl rolled his eyes at her.

“You and your faith,” Daryl snorted, “Ain’t no order ta things, Beth! No cosmic plan. Just pure dumb luck.”

“And how do you know that? Give me one example. And so help me God, if you mention my Daddy again…” The threat hung heavily in the air. It was a good thing they loved each other, Beth thought, otherwise these arguments would probably be the end of their friendship.

“How ‘bout you an’ me.” Daryl muttered, stubbing his toe against the boards.

“What’cha talkin’ about?” Beth silently cussed herself for the dropped consonants. Daryl was having a terrible effect on her. She tossed a stray pebble on a rotting head beneath her.

“I mean that in no other world than this, where everything’s fallen apart are you and I even in the same room together.”

“You don’t know that.”

“How do you know?”

“You-“  
“Don’t you dare say “ya gotta have faith”, Greene.”

Beth pouted. It was going to be a long night. She threw down another pebble. Direct hit.

“Want me to sing?” She offered after the silence stretched out. The noise from below was unbearable, and it wasn’t like there could be any more walkers to draw to them. Daryl just grunted and tipped his head at her. She picked out the rhythm on her thigh and hummed the first few bars.

 

“ _Riding a big jet plane,_

_Crying into your sleeve,_

_'Cause you miss those lovin' arms…”_

 

* * *

 

 

It had been a hard year. A hard year in a series of hard years. Beth’s fingers fluttered over the strings of her old guitar as she tuned it up. The noise of the bar buzz was comforting. It’d been a while. The California student scene wasn’t quite the same as this – besides, it was nice to be back where people knew her name.

“Here you go!” Maggie dropped a bottle of Creature Comfort beer down on the table in front of her, condensation streaming off the glass. Beth smiled her thanks as she took her sister in again. This was the first chance Beth had really had to hang out with Maggie alone since she’d gotten back from college.

Maggie was still as gorgeous ever; there was no getting around it. Beth always felt a little in the shadow with her big sister around. Maggie was wearing her hair in a long bob these days, which was throwing Beth for a loop, but it looked great. But even so, there were lines around her eyes and between her brows that hadn’t been there before. Yes, it had been a hard year but even more so for Maggie.

They chatted a little while, Beth’s ex-boyfriend Jimmy swinging by to make puppy dog eyes at her, talking about small superficial things that they felt guilty for worrying about at home. Maggie was demanding information about a guy, Tom, that Beth had made the mistake of mentioning on the phone once and now couldn’t hear the end of.

“So, is he cute? C’mon! You have to tell me! I need to live vicariously.” Maggie teased. But Beth was suddenly reminded that Maggie never got out these days. Probably hadn’t seen a cute boy who didn’t work at the grocery or the hospital in months. Before she could spill, though, the manager was at her elbow telling her she could start her set. Maggie waved off her apologies, pointing her finger at her:

“Later, you hear me!”

Beth wound her way through the bar crowd. It was the usual crowd of farmers, farmers’ sons and daughters with the odd redneck or biker passing through. She climbed onto the still dark stage and set to fiddling with her guitar strap and microphone stand. She asked for a drink of water and scanned the crowd for familiar faces, raising a hand or a smile to some of them.

Beth caught a glimpse of Maggie at the bar, smiling over the top of her beer glass at some cute Asian guy who was probably trying to make a pass. The sight of her older sister having fun made Beth’s throat tighten up a little. Even though her sister had absolved her of any guilt or blame, she still felt terrible for leaving her.

Maggie had had to move home, giving up her acting ambitions in New York, when Daddy had had the accident. Beth had offered to come home but she and Daddy were adamant that she should keep on studying through her junior year – but Daddy couldn’t live alone yet. Of course everyone was full of sympathy for the oldest Greene, but no one told you how hard it was for the family, too. Particularly since it was only the three of them now.

Beth tried not to think too much about Mama and what she’d have made of the terrible shambles the Greene farm had become since she died four years ago. The list of calamities made for painful reading: Otis had had a hunting accident, Patricia and Jimmy had moved away and then, of course, Daddy had lost his leg. Beth’s throat tightened up at the memory of the phone call.

Beth shook her head to shake out the depressing thoughts. Time to get started. She stuck with her usual blend of country and Irish music – always popular in these parts. She started with one of her favourites, Lovin’ Arms, by the Wood Brothers. She sang sweetly and heard the bar noise drop away. Her sister was swaying in time over by the bar. The cute Asian guy was watching her. Beth smiled through the words.

 

_“…A lullaby keeps on playing,_

_You thinking it's a dream,_

_'Cause you miss those lovin' arms…_ ”

 

_“And you got a good mind to pray._

_They say somebody's playing,_

_But what if he's got a slippery hand?_

 

* * *

 

 

Daryl watched Beth as she sang. It was pretty much his favourite pastime. Hell, it was probably his only pastime. Beth never sang lightly. Her whole body and face reflected whatever it was that she was singing. So now she looked both sad and wise beyond her years.

His fingers were itching to hold on to her but he’d dug himself into a pit. As per usual. He knew she’d have let it go by now, but he was still too proud. Beth was too forgiving. But then she had her sister covering her ass in that respect. You mess with the bull, you get the horns – in the form of Maggie Greene.

Daryl watched a rock that Beth flicked over the ledge take out a walker’s eye. That was his girl. Singing and staying alive, all at the same time. He slid down the wall of the barn, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest, making sure he could still see out of the doors. Beth was right. The others would come. He trusted Rick. Moreover, he trusted Maggie not to stop looking for Beth. She had made that mistake once before and never would again.

As Daryl watched her, he thought about how he could never quite get his head around her faith. What in this wretched world had let her keep it? It was beautiful, in its own twisted way. A bit like her singing over this crowd of walkers.

He had a thought sometimes, which he was pretty sure he was going to hell for: sometimes he was glad for everything that had happened, all the death, blood and suffering, just because he had met her. He wasn’t so optimistic as Beth. Back in the old world, her eyes would have skated right over the likes of him. He might have noticed her, but in the way he’d have noticed any pretty blonde on the streets or on a TV screen. Appreciatively but fleetingly.

Maybe he didn’t share her belief that they would have found a way, but he liked that she believed it. Daryl’s foot picked out the tempo of her song.

 

_“….Well, it's a sad face you wear,_

_Like a burned out sun,_

_'Cause you miss those lovin' arms._ ”

 

* * *

 

Daryl slammed his glass on the counter down, signalling for a refill from the disapproving bartender. He raised his eyebrows at the server: wanna fuck with me, bro? He got a double.

This wasn’t his usual kind of haunt. A little clean and pricey for the likes of him. Filled with farm folk who gave him side-eye. He wasn’t really sure what he was doing here or where he was going. He’d just been travelling around the back roads of Georgia on that bike of Merle’s. A consolation prize from his prick of a dearly deceased brother. He hadn’t crossed the state lines yet. Somehow afraid of straying too far from home, even if he’d never really had one.

So here he was, on a Friday night, being jostled by barely-legals. A few of the girls gave him admiring looks and he briefly considered hooking up with one of them. He decided against it: the hassle of finding and paying for a motel, the angry fathers/boyfriends/husbands and having to wave off attempts of those who wanted to “get to know him”.

He broke off eye contact with a tanned redhead when he saw the musician playing. She wasn’t what he’d been expecting. All coltish legs and long white-blonde hair, somehow old and young all at once. She was smiling into the light and her fingers moved so smoothly over the strings of her guitar that he had assumed she had a backing tape. She sang with confidence that came from years of practice. She scanned the crowd as she strummed. His hand tightened around his glass as he wondered if she might look on him. She did and she graced him with a smile before her baby blues moved on.

Daryl drained his glass and shook those blue eyes right out of his mind. It was time to hit the road. Maybe this time he could cross the border. He pushed his way through the crowd. He was almost out the door before he heard his name called. He considered ignoring the voice. Most people who knew his name were people trying to sell him things or settle some old debt of Merle’s.

“Hey, man.” A hand clapped over his shoulder only to be shrugged off. Daryl turned. It took him a minute to recognise the man. Then it came to him: the sheriff who’d come by the trailer to tell him about Merle. He’d been kind and stern all at once and Daryl couldn’t tell whether to like him or hate him. Daryl couldn’t quite recall his name from the fog.

“Hey.” Daryl said. Now that the greetings were over, both men stood awkwardly, wondering what to say next.

“How’re you doin’?” The older man asked.

“Okay.”

“That’s good, man. Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, gotta hit the road.” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed, as though he were wondering to ask Daryl how much he’d had to drink. But he let it pass. Rick, Daryl remembered his name with relief, looked over his shoulder at a stunning black woman at a table behind. She looked way too classy for the likes of this joint and the apprehension on her face spoke of a first date.

“You sure you don’t want to have a drink-“

“Naw, I’m good. Thanks man.” He shook Rick’s hand. He meant what he said. The guy might be awkward but he meant well. Weren’t many Daryl could say that about. He watched as Rick approached his date, the smile on her face, the tension bleeding out of her shoulders.

Daryl pushed through the doors into the surprisingly cold evening air. Yes, he thought, it was time to get moving, the faint strains of the singer’s song floating out, mingling with the sounds of the night’s creatures, the hum of the interstate almost out of earshot. He swung his leg over the bike and set off.

 

“… _Think a grown man will care_

_About his boot lace undone_

_But you just miss those lovin' arms._

_Yeah, you miss those lovin' arms_.”

* * *

 

It was nearly dawn now. Unsurprisingly, neither Beth nor Daryl had gotten any sleep. About a half hour ago, Beth would guess, there had been an awful crack and one of the support pillars had given way under the onslaught of the herd. The loft was feeling a little rocky right now and they could hear the ominous creak of another pillar. Daryl was counting his crossbow bolts, which was always a bad sign.

Beth’s throat was nearly hoarse. She’d been singing songs on a loop for hours now, almost afraid to stop. She didn’t want Daryl to think she was afraid or, worse, had given up. She had, though, cut out halfway through _The Parting Glass_ , her voice catching on “and since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not…” It seemed too eerie, somehow.

Daryl scooted over to her, both their backs against the back wall. She leant into his warmth. If she was gonna go, she would go with him. She finished her song and let it fade into the cacophony below. There was a lump in her throat now, and she couldn’t bring herself to start a new song. Daryl nudged her and she turned to face him

“Hey.” Daryl said.

“Hey.” She replied. He looked thoughtful.

“I know I don’t say it,” He started, haltingly, “but y’know I love you, right?”

“What?”  
“Don’t make me say it again.” Beth could feel the smile spread across her face and she must have looked like a loon, but she didn’t care. Even the walkers seemed miles away. Daryl ducked his head but she could see he was smiling too. She laced her fingers through his.

“I know. And I know I say it all the time, but I love you too, Daryl Dixon.” The pillar was splintering now but neither heard. Daryl tucked her under his arm and she was kissing her way along his jawline. He held onto her hip. Wished he had done this more often. Around the others. Let them know that she was his. And he was hers. He angled his face to slant his mouth over hers. If he was going out, at least he wouldn’t have to face a world without her.

The beam went with a crash and then they were sliding forward, but Beth never made a sound, just locked her arms around him as they went.

 

_“…And you got a good mind to pray._

_They say somebody playing,_

_But what if he's got slippery hands?”_

 

* * *

 

Beth waved off Jimmy’s offer to help carry her stuff to the car.

“I’m a big girl, Jimmy.” He looked a little abashed but still faintly hopeful and Beth couldn’t quite find it in her to snuff out the torch he was carrying. She scanned the crowd again, as he told her his plans for the week ahead, wondering where her sister had gone.

“…Maybe we could grab a drink sometime next week, if you’re not too busy?” Beth knew that was when she was supposed to deliver the killing blow, but she just couldn’t do it.

“Maybe.” She did it with her usual smile, not promising anything. Maggie suddenly materialised, wrapping her long arms around Beth from behind, speaking in a wheedling voice that told Beth what to expect. Beth could just about see the Asian guy over their shoulder, standing awkwardly near the bar. She had a feeling she knew what was about to happen.

“Hey! Listen, Beth, y’know I wouldn’t normally ask this – wouldn’t normally do this – but would you mind awfully if I got a ride back with Glenn?”

“Should I expect you home before or after breakfast?” Beth shot at her and watched the wind come out of her sister’s sails. She felt terrible as soon as the words left her mouth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You can do whatever you life – Lord knows you deserve a night off.” Maggie lit back up, a smile tinged with sadness.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem. Just, y’know, be safe.” Beth mumbled awkwardly. She couldn’t help if she got all flustered about these kinds of things. Maggie wrinkled her nose.

“Ew!”

“I know, I know. Any way, get outta here!” She gave her older sister a playful shove. Maggie was grinning like a Cheshire Cat the whole walk to the door where she wrapped her hand around the cute boy’s. She should have asked his full name, Beth thought. Maggie turned and waved as they pushed out the doors, mouthing “thank you!” one more time.

Beth realised that Jimmy had slunk off at some point and decided that now was as good a time as ever to make her escape. She picked up her guitar and handbag and made her way to the bar, to make sure the tab was settled. It was a way of putting time between her and Maggie more than anything else.

She headed for the door after calling goodnight to the manager and waved a hand at Rick Grimes who looked as though he was on a date. Good for him, she thought. She wondered who was babysitting his kids these days.

Mercifully she didn’t run into Jimmy before she got into the pick-up. She felt bad for trying to shake him off, but she felt as though she’d outgrown him. Maybe outgrown their shared grief.  She was out there, in the big bad world, and he was still at home, reliving their glory days.  She felt cruel.

The air stung her lungs in the good way, so she rolled her windows down, feeling it blowing her hair and chapping her cheeks. She started singing along with the radio and when they got too poppy, went back to singing her set list.

About a mile out of the bar, she saw a shape by the side of the road. Beth braked for almost anything, much to her father’s dismay, so she slowed up. Her lights cast the shape’s shadow far into the neighbouring field. A man turned, his hand raised to block the light from her eyes and she came to a stop. It never occurred to Beth that this could be any form of danger. This was just what a good Christian did.

 

“ _God damn,_

_You're a boy not a man,_

_When you miss those lovin' arms.”_

 

* * *

 

Daryl threw a hand out, desperately trying to stop their slide towards the snatching jaws below. At the last second, just inches from the walkers grasping hands, their feet landed on the raised lip of the loft and they were left leaning away from the precipice.

Daryl let out a whoosh of air he hadn’t known he’d been holding in. Beth’s fingernails still dug into his chest and he could see her eyes were screwed shut.

“It’s okay, Beth. They ain’t got us yet.” Daryl didn’t add that it might not be much longer, though. He moved his hand to his hip, two bullets left, he reminded himself. His crossbow was down somewhere in the crowd below, along with their packs. He wondered if he’d feel its comforting weight again.

Beth let out a whimper and he went back to just holding her. The last pillars weren’t likely to break now. It was more likely they’d get tired and fall. There was no room to sit or lie or even crouch. It was stand or die. Beth’s old words about being the last man standing echoed in his head.

The light was beginning to fill the barn now, illuminating each rotting hand that grabbed them. But then, Daryl realised, it was also lighting up Beth’s angel hair.

“I’m sorry.” She said, in a voice so small he hardly heard it over the din.

“What’cha sorry for?”

“I really thought I was stronger.” She turned up to look at him, eyes watering, “And I really thought they’d come.”

“Ya have nothin’ to be sorry for.” He kissed the top of her head, hearing her sigh. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her properly, one more time, but thought for sure that’d be the end of them.

Daryl’s ears pricked up. He could almost convince himself it was the sound of wheels on gravel. The sound picked up and so did Beth’s head. They watched with disbelieving eyes as the SUV pulled up at the entranceway, blocking the walkers in. Gunshots rung out as the two survivors squinted against the light.

Beth let out a sob as she caught the light shining redly through Maggie’s hair, backed by the distinct slim figure of Glenn and the boxy one of Abraham. Daryl’s eyes locked on Rick’s, as he traded his gun for an extra sword from Michonne. Daryl wasn’t the kind to cry, but he could feel the lump like a stone in his throat.

It felt like forever, the clearing of the barn, but it was probably only minutes until the last gunshot rang itself into silence. Beth was the first to move, calling Maggie’s name, then Glenn’s, then Rick’s, a happy babble. Rick stood beneath them and caught Beth as she jumped down, bouncing from his hug to her sister’s. Daryl slid down and landed by Rick’s feet, pulled up by his brother.

And then they were heading back to the car, richer for the supplies that he and Beth had won, but he knew he couldn’t let her get back in the car just yet.

“Yo, Beth.” She turned, her face tired but no less beautiful than it ever was.

“Yes?” She replied. He reached for her shoulders and pulled her into him, mouth closing over hers, one hand pulling her pelvis to his, the other pulling at her long ponytail. She gasped into the kiss and then there was tongues and heat and her hips grinding against him. They could have stayed like that forever, Daryl thought. But then there was the sound of a throat being cleared and they separated, Beth looking a little goofy. Rick stood in the open door of the car, eyebrow cocked. Maggie, in the passenger seat, looked as though her jaw had hit the floor. Abraham just clapped before telling the curtly to “Get your asses in the car.”

Daryl took her hand as they headed into the back seat.

“See,” He told her, “You’ve gotta have faith.” She laughed and sighed as she settled against him for the ride home.

 

“ _Well, some day,_

_When you're up there flyin'_

_And you miss those lovin' arms,_

_It isn't so far away,_

_The sweet lullaby,_

_When you miss those lovin' arms._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, there! Can I help you?” The man scowled at her, but she waited patiently in the car, leaning out of the window. She could see that he was having some trouble with his bike.

“Not ‘less y’know something bout bikes.” He said dismissively. He looked a little familiar and she wondered if he’d been in the bar. She actually did know a little about bikes but didn’t want to offer her help to someone who didn’t want it.

“Okay, then,” Beth shifted her car back into gear, but couldn’t resist adding “But it sounds like you’ve flooded the engine – that or the spark plugs.” She moved off but stopped again when he called after her.

“Hey! You know ya way round bikes?”

“Engines, mostly.” She could see the man dithering and took pity on him, “I got a tool box in the back. If you want my help?”

“Yeh, alright.” The man conceded and Beth guessed that was the closest she was going to get to an apology. As she stepped out of the car and made her way to the trunk, she wondered why she was so bent on helping someone who was so stubborn. She should really have left him here to think on his bad behaviour. But then, there was something about him, something niggling in the back of her brain.

She kneeled by the side of the bike and set to figuring out what was wrong. She could feel the man looming over her and see him in her peripheral vision, gnawing on the side of his thumbnail.

“That’s a bad habit, you know.” He gave a small grunt in reply but dropped his hand. She smiled.

“Okay, I can fix this.” She stood and faced him. He was a little grubby, sure, but he was kind of cute in a rough around the edges way. There was something kind about his eyes, even as the rest of him scowled. Beth wiped her hands on her jeans.

“Really?” He asked, sounding unconvinced. Beth elicited a mock gasp at his challenge.

“You doubt me?”

“Well…” He rubbed his head and diverted his attention to the ground before looking back up at her. Beth tipped her head back letting laughter erupt and her hair tumble back. Then she stopped and looked him in the eye.

“No one ever tell you? You gotta have faith.” There was an odd beat after the words left her mouth when the two figures on the lonely expanse of road almost twitched with something like muscle memory. Like a penny dropping, somewhere in the deep recesses of their minds.

“I’m Beth, by the way.” She reached a hand out for him. He took it, almost shyly.  
“Hmhm. I saw ya in the bar. Daryl.”

“Did you like the set?” She asked.

“Mmmhmm.”

“What does ‘mmhmm’ mean?” She teased him.

“Y’know.” Beth laughed again, but didn’t push it – for now at least. She pulled a wrench and oil cloth from the tool box, threading it through her fingers. She looked up at him.

“Well, Daryl. Shall we get started?”

 


End file.
